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"So, what brings you to Seattle?" It was an
automatic question. Something the rental car clerk was probably taught to spit
out while shuffling through paperwork. Idle chit chat, because people like chit
chat. It's friendly.

"An absurd devotion to my wife."

The clerk stopped for a second, but didn't look up. I like
to think he appreciated my honesty; maybe it caught him off guard. Or I was the
17th "cute" answer he'd received that hour and he was debating
whether or not it would be worth it to just go ahead and punch me in the face.
Could have gone either way.

"Go outside, take a left, then go up one floor. That's
our lot. Look for the Economy sign. Pick the one you want and drive out--keys
are inside." The clerk gave me a curt nod and then motioned to the person
behind me to step forward.

We picked a tiny white car—a Chevy Sonic, I think—because it
looked most like Edward Cullen's Volvo.

And so began our trip to Seattle.

Some background: Brooke’s discovery

In 2008, my wife discovered Twilight, three or four weeks
before the final book in the series came out. She loved it.

I was thrilled. I'd been trying to get her to like reading
for years, but nothing ever stuck. Something about Twilight grabbed her. She
chewed through the first three books in a week and then waited in line at
midnight for the final one.

I have a policy with my entertainment: at least twice a
year, read/play/watch something you normally wouldn't. And so I read the
Twilight saga, though not as quickly as Brooke. Wasn't really my cup of tea
(Team Jacob baby!), but I could see why Brooke liked it. It was a story about
high school sweethearts. It reminded her of us (except I was not, nor do I plan
to be, a vampire). That was kind of sweet, I guess.

The important thing, at least for me as a writer, was that Twilight
jumpstarted Brooke's reading appetite. She quickly outpaced me, reading more
books per month than I ever had. She gobbled up everything in the booming YA
market, searching for that next sweet forbidden young love fix.

Years went by. Brooke's Twilight love never waned. Through
an interesting series of events (chronicled in other blogs), Brooke was able to
visit Phoenix in 2009 and Italy in 2010 (Volterra, a city featured in New Moon,
was one of our many stops). She'd already been to Florida years ago. That put
her one city away from this bumper sticker:

Christmas 2011: A far off gift

I promised to make that sticker a reality. On Christmas day,
I told Brooke She would see the final Twilight movie in Forks. The plane
tickets were already purchased. She cried.

Eleven months later, we left our son with his grandma and
our dog with a friend and headed for the Pacific Northwest. Turns out Forks is
super tiny. No airport to fly in to and no movie theater to watch Breaking Dawn in. So we stayed in Seattle, which was fine by us. I grew up all over the
country, but I've never seen the Pacific Northwest. Being three hours away from
Forks would give us a chance to see more of the area. And what a beautiful area
it is.

Chasing the Cullens

We started with Seattle. We wondered around Pike's Place,
grabbed coffee at the first Starbucks, saw two (!) movies in the middle of the
day without hiring a babysitter, did a good bit of shopping, and got rained on,
a lot. Just being together, free of set plans or baby schedules, was wonderful.

On our last day, we drove onto a ferry early in the morning and
made the three hour journey through the winding mountains to Forks. It might
have been one of the most scenic and pleasurable road trips I’ve ever taken. The
constant changes in elevation, the towering trees and still lakes, and the way
our tiny rental car hugged each turn—I felt like I was inside one of the many
driving video games I’ve played over the years. It was too pretty to be real.

Forks is a small town. Like, 3,000 people small. It's right
up there at the edge of the state, alone in the piney moutains. It's a
secluded, sleepy little town, and a perfect setting for a story about
light-averse vampires. We covered the whole thing--jumping out to take pictures
at all the Twilight landmarks--in about an hour. It was goofy, to be running
around a little town where people work and live, as if we were on a scavenger
hunt, snapping pictures that would mean nothing to anyone other than Brooke,
and Twi-hards like her. But it was fun and silly. I’m a firm believer and doing
silly things from time to time.

After the pictures we stopped at a crummy diner on the edge
of town. The roof was leaking and the burgers tasted like they came straight
out of a high school cafeteria. I sat across from Brooke, who unlike the many
other Twilight fanatics we'd seen (and there were many), was dressed in normal
clothes. Still, you could tell she was there for Twilight. Despite the rain,
the mediocre burger and the chilly air, she radiated pure joy. She was glowing.
You might even say she sparkled. She had that exuberant look of nerdy
satisfaction. It was nice to see it on her. God knows she's seen it on me over
the years:

-The time I was flown to Arizona and treated like a
celebrity just for illustrating a book for a non-profit.

-The time I stood 15 yards from Jack Johnson, my favorite
musician, as he sang a few songs in the area near the snack bar before his
concert started.

-The time I talked to Ben Caldwell, one of my favorite
artists, at Heroes Con and got him to critique my art portfolio.

-The day I heard I was going to get paid to write game
reviews as a freelancer for Gamespot.com.

She's been down some nerdy roads with me. She's listened to
me prattle on (and on, and on) about video games and how they're made, my
writing and art dreams, and so much more. Unlike the Twilight saga, there's no
end to my geekery. I figured it was only fair to help her see hers to its
conclusion.

We finished our trip at La Push, a beach on a Native
American reservation featured in the books. It was absolutely stunning, wild,
untouched land. Pictures can't do it justice. Growing up in the Navy, I've
stood on a lot of beaches. This one was different. This was pure, unfiltered
nature. Standing there almost felt wrong, as if we were intruding. As if we
weren't meant to see that cold, powerful, solitary side of the world. Standing
there while the wind whipped a mixture of freezing ocean water and rain at us,
I felt small. It reminded me of that Kimya Dawson song. I've rolled my eyes and
poked fun at my wife's obsession for years. Standing at La Push, I was glad for
it.

Before we left, Brooke grabbed a smooth stone as a memento,
and I recorded this quick video in the car.

And that about sums it up. We drove back, grabbed another
ferry to Seattle and crashed in our hotel room. We returned home to a grueling
week--Brooke had her thyroid removed on Tuesday and because her vocal chords
seem to be temporarily paralyzed, they kept her in the hospital through Friday.
The hospital Thanksgiving food was...underwhelming.

Her voice still isn’t back. It might be a few weeks, maybe
even a few months. It definitely sucks to have my famously talkative wife
silenced. But the silence has brought reflection. We’ve both spent more time in
our heads. Time we’ve used to think about the ups and downs of our lives and
what’s really important. Like trips to Twilight-ville, USA.

Yesterday, on our way to Brooke’s post-op check-up, she
turned down the radio and whispered to me, “I’ve been thinking a lot about our
trip. It was really great, just hanging out with you. Thanks for taking me
there.”

She didn’t need to tell me that of course. But I nodded
along just the same. “Yeah, it was
really great.”